Faked Happiness
by NT aka Aku-chan
Summary: Shonen Ai! A habit of Kyou's oneshot?


Title: Faked Happiness

Author: NT aka Aku-chan

Pairing(s): KyouHaru, HaruYuki

Disclaimer: Fruits Basket belongs to someone who probably likes fruits and baskets... I don't like baskets much, I prefer boxes.

Warning(s): Shonen Ai, Angst

Aku: One-shot? Maybe. Depends on what you guys want.

**Faked Happiness**

It had become such a habit that he never needed the small reminder. But he always set it in place for that one moment where he might forget or his body wouldn't respond as it normally had now. Only out of habit. He felt himself laughing, making a mockery out of himself, whenever he looked from beyond his own mindset. It was almost obsessive. It was depressing, but he didn't want pity. He just wanted to continue his habit he adapted two years ago. But he felt that if he didn't take that time, everything he held onto so tightly would shatter, the shards too small to try and fix and too sharp to even touch. Fragile and deadly, almost like himself.

The small devilish number flashed in his eyes with a soft, monotone pounding to bring him closer to reality than he already was. He was already awake, just waited until the small digits triggered the alarm. Glancing over without even thinking, the numbers processed in his mind before he could clearly transfer it to actual knowledge.

2:00.

It was out of habit really why he woke up everyday at 2 in the morning. It had started two years ago, as he could remember clearly that night. Not a hint of romance, just loneliness meeting desperation. But he had found his bit of happiness from it and he didn't want to lose it. But he always wondered, thought for hours on end, if he really had it in his grasp to begin with. Was it truly in his palm that he could truthfully say he felt it? Or was it just another falsity in his existence? This was not living, was it? He'd ask himself countless times day, a smile splayed across his face, one filled with anguish and suffering, the closest he had ever come to true happiness.

Shaking out the thoughts, knowing how he could get if he let his mind continue to travel on the same path it had for years. It was the pauses and constant stops that let him survive for so long. Just delaying the inevitable, he supposed.

He reminded himself of the time when a cold draft raped his skin of its heat. Looking over at the place beside him in the large king sized bed, he waited for his eyes to take in the figure of a man taller than him lying soundly and comfortably beneath the covers, or as it was perceived. He waited for the tuft of salt-and-pepper hair peaking out curiously from the scarlet blanket that he loved to get lost in. He waited for a sight that let him be deceived from facing a reality he didn't want.

He waited for the familiarity he had become accustomed to, and even felt a belonging, such a rare, exhilarating gift to have.

But his wait was in vain, witnessing the vacant indenture of the one he found to love, the heat still radiating from the pillow and mattress beneath. Panic struck him quickly, his mind trying to calm him.

'He's only in the bathroom.'

'He got hungry and went to get a snack.'

'He needed some fresh air and took a quick stroll.'

But no matter how many reasons he could give, he was still left with the same one, always.

'He doesn't need you anymore.'

The door creaked open, a figure standing in the doorway, glancing over the bedroom, until it met with his shadowed eyes. Shock first, guilt next, then an understanding passed between the two. It was all that was needed. He stepped into the room, stepping closer to the bed they had shared for two years.

'He doesn't need you anymore.' His mind would stay consistent, reminding him of a fact he only let wander back into the recesses of his mind. It was always the truth and always just hidden beneath layers of denial. But finally, he had gotten sick of their faked life, their faked happiness and burned away the layers for him. Raped him of his lies, leaving him straining to breath.

"Why...?" He whispered out the question, knowing the answer already and so well, as it clearly rung through his head beside the other reason.

"Yuki..." He expected it as much, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. In fact, it hurt more when he heard it and knew. Because he could do nothing to deny it, nothing to even try to hide from it. Just lay naked and breathless, waiting for death to just overcome him. But life is just too damn ironic to let him have such an easy escape, so he stays to break piece by piece in front of the one he loved.

Bending his head, he let the tears he had held in for two years stain his sunburned cheeks, where the moon couldn't even touch his gift and sin to the world. He wasn't about to let the one he loved see his tears.

'Don't look at me!' He cried in his mind. He felt like the monster he was always said to be at the moment, hideous and too ugly for his love's eyes. 'Don't look at me... please...'

Soft, hesitant footsteps walked towards him, the cream smoothed hand reaching out for his own. "I'm sorry." And that was to make up for all the deception, all the lies he poured on him. All cleaned and swept away with a mere apology. He wanted to laugh and cry and die.

The pale pink lips ridiculed him, as they met softly with his hand, as if to tell him he could never have them. Just feel a bit and have them leave him. This was what he could not have, they said. This was what he wanted, would die for, but could never reach.

This was his message, and he accepted it. He always accepted, used to being deprived of what he wanted. Always the same, out of habit. He felt the pressure in his hand, as he let his eyes wander to the cold fragile frame in his palm to the picture of two boys who looked so happy. But one was happy for another reason, and the other never could find true bliss. It was all lies. It was all habit that drove them to this.

And he never moved, but felt the other walk away, as the door closed softly, and the sound of a car engine drifting to a place in the horizon he barely could see, let alone reach. He was in that place, where even if he walked forever, he'd never reach it.

And he stared at the clock, out of habit.

2:20.

He hid himself under the cold blanket of an overly large bed, letting his tears fade into the fabric, holding close to his heart the picture of faked happiness. And it was at that moment, he wished he had never set the alarm.

It was all out of habit.

**The End?**

Aku: Don't hurt me! In case you couldn't figure it out, this was from Kyou's PoV, and Haru basically left Kyou for Yuki. So mean, Haru!

Haru: ...

Aku: Ehehe... anyways, please review to make a little kitty happy!

Kyou: Nyao!

Aku: Kawaiii!!!!!


End file.
